Love mends even the broken parts
So it didn’t really matter what they did. The monsters would probably be able to figure out or break through whatever defense or system they put in place. ”So we should probably do away with the code entirely?” He wasn’t really sure what the best course of action was, but if the monsters could mimic anything, probably best to do nothing. As for fighting, successful or not, it wasn’t so much that he was advocating for it as the fact that he’d failed to uncover that piece of information. It seemed that he was still ignorant of far too much. ”Did anything in particular prove effective against them?” Maybe he could still learn what he was missing.
Remi’s frantic words were unnecessary. ”I said okay. I’m not going to tell her your plans.” That didn’t mean the Launceleyn couldn’t tell the queen his own. However, the comment that he wasn’t a part of this made him flinch; while it seemed to be his choice whether or not he helped with the god-given tasks, hearing it so starkly from the alchemist hurt deep within. And the pain just deepened at the rest of the other man’s comments.
Maybe it was just his pride flaring up again, but he’d thought he could do more to protect people. Do something to protect people, since all his efforts seemed to be coming to naught in the end. Indeed, he’d expected it of himself even if no one else had wanted to rely upon him, or trust him, or even accept everything he was willing and able to offer. And all he was taking away from this was how meaningless his presence really was, in the end.
Perhaps that was why he was so upset by this. Opening his eyes, he stared at a point on the floor, unable to look at Remi at the moment. ”Maybe I did. Because...because I wasn’t here. Before, when I might’ve been needed. And I’m not so naive to think that I would’ve made a difference in most cases. But...I might’ve made a difference in some of them. Enough of them.” Instead, he’d failed in that. And now it seemed as if he’d repeat that experience, even after he’d returned. That thought haunted him. The other man wasn't the only one plagued by what might have been.
Remi’s frantic words were unnecessary. ”I said okay. I’m not going to tell her your plans.” That didn’t mean the Launceleyn couldn’t tell the queen his own. However, the comment that he wasn’t a part of this made him flinch; while it seemed to be his choice whether or not he helped with the god-given tasks, hearing it so starkly from the alchemist hurt deep within. And the pain just deepened at the rest of the other man’s comments.
Maybe it was just his pride flaring up again, but he’d thought he could do more to protect people. Do something to protect people, since all his efforts seemed to be coming to naught in the end. Indeed, he’d expected it of himself even if no one else had wanted to rely upon him, or trust him, or even accept everything he was willing and able to offer. And all he was taking away from this was how meaningless his presence really was, in the end.
Perhaps that was why he was so upset by this. Opening his eyes, he stared at a point on the floor, unable to look at Remi at the moment. ”Maybe I did. Because...because I wasn’t here. Before, when I might’ve been needed. And I’m not so naive to think that I would’ve made a difference in most cases. But...I might’ve made a difference in some of them. Enough of them.” Instead, he’d failed in that. And now it seemed as if he’d repeat that experience, even after he’d returned. That thought haunted him. The other man wasn't the only one plagued by what might have been.
loren
